State With Kings
by modernday austen
Summary: Things are back to normal at the Castle, but now the Prince has come back to win Sophie's heart.
1. Sophie's Guest

**Chapter One: Sophie's Guest **

* * *

Sophie took a sip of the hot ginger tea in front of her and turned to smile at Markl. He was in his old man guise and was busy with a customer from the yellow portal. It was interesting; Sophie had never seen Markl interact with a customer for as long as he was now. The customer, a middle aged woman with dark brown hair, was making her decision between two different orders of potions. Markl was patiently, albeit grudgingly assisting her. Sophie's eyes lingered on the woman's hair. It was very similar to the color hair she had once had. She took another sip of tea. It wasn't that she minded her hair now. Sophie thought the grayish color lent her appearance an age and wisdom that made her features softer. But the brown reminded her of her life before the Castle, and she had to admit she did miss it a little. 

"Thank you very much! Come again!"

Markl's old man voice shook Sophie out of her thoughts. She heard the front door slam and the familiar pop of Markl shedding his disguise. The young boy stomped up the stairs by the door and came to stand by Sophie, who was seated at the kitchen table. "I hope she never comes again!" he said, slamming his face against the tabletop. "Did you see how long she took?" he continued incredulously. Sophie steadied her teacup against Markl's violent movement. "Yes, she did take an unusually long amount of time," Sophie conceded. "It must have been something very important."

"No," said Markl in a disgusted voice. "It was something to strengthen wool dye."

"Wool dye. Hm."

Sophie and Markl turned to see the Witch slowly make her way down the stairs. "Good morning," Sophie said as she got up from the table. She quickly placed her teacup in the sink and climbed halfway up the stairs to assist the older woman. "Thank you, my dear," the Witch said in response. When they had reached the bottom of the stairs, the Witch started for the door. "Do you want to come outside with me, Markl?" she asked as she grabbed a shawl from the conveniently placed coat rack. "Sure!" Markl replied. "Where's Heen?"

A loud wheeze was heard from somewhere in the room. A furry old dog crept out from underneath the couch. "Come on, Heen! Time to go outside!" Markl called. The young boy pulled a scarf around his neck and headed towards the portal that doubled as their front door. "Standby!" Markl said. The circle changed from yellow to blue, and the door opened to reveal the little bit of yard that the Castle had. Then, beyond that, the open sky. Markl held open the door for the Witch and then quickly closed it behind him.

Sophie was left alone in the kitchen. It seemed that one member of the family was missing, and Sophie knew exactly where to find him. She climbed the wooden steps, which led her to the second floor of the Castle. She passed the bathroom and Markl's room, and placed her hand on a familiar door. Howl's room. Sophie gently pressed against the wood, and the door creaked open a bit.

"Howl?" she called quietly. No answer.

"Howl?" Still nothing.

"Howl!" she cried loudly.

"Mmmh?" came the reply.

"Aren't you up yet?"

"Mmph."

"I'm coming in." Sophie pushed the door open, and a glimmer of gold came to meet her. Howl was lying, eyes closed, in bed. He was wearing his usual white shirt; the only type of shirt Sophie could ever recall him wearing. Sophie didn't move from her spot by the door.

"Don't you want some breakfast?" she asked. She could see Howl's blue eyes open. His bright face turned towards her.

"You can come in, you know," he informed her. Sophie looked down at her feet. Suddenly she felt slightly timid. She hadn't actually entered Howl's room since before everything had happened, and the prospect seemed strange.

Howl saw her hesitate, and he sat up in bed and smiled at her. "Never mind, Sophie. I'll be downstairs in a few minutes." She looked up from the floor. He was smiling at her, something he often did but she never failed to value. His dark hair sat perfectly straight against his face. Even in the mornings, it was never otherwise. But his blue eyes were the features that perplexed her. They seemed to say that they knew much more than she did and had seen much more than she had.

Sophie snapped out of her sudden wariness and smiled back. She gently closed the door behind her, slowly pulling her hand from the handle.

She made her way back downstairs to the kitchen. Once there, Sophie reached into the cupboards below the sink and produced a frying pan and a spatula.

She suddenly felt a hand touch her waist, and nearly dropped the pan. "Good morning, Sophie," said Howl, from behind her. She turned to face him. He was fully dressed and already downstairs. "That was quick," she answered. "Good morning." Howl's smile brightened in response, and he leaned down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. Then he took the pan from Sophie and turned towards the stove.

"Good morning, Calicifer," Howl said, greeting the small flame that looked as tired as he had five minutes ago.

"What? Oh. Good morning," the flame said, opening its eyes. The flame looked at the pan in Howl's hands. "I suppose you want me to heat that up for you?" it said with sigh.

"If you would be so kind," Howl replied. The flame abruptly sprang up, almost singeing Howl's hand. "Oh come now, Calicifer. There's no cause for that," Howl said, flipping the eggs and bacon with the spatula that he took from Sophie.

Sophie leaned back against the sink and watched. It was as true now as it had ever been: she was in love with Howl. Their relationship never really progressed, but that was how Sophie wanted it. Howl never seemed to want for anything more than to grab her hand when leading her somewhere or hold on to her waist when he took her flying off of the Castle. And, of course, the occasional kiss. Sophie knew that he loved her, and that was enough. He had his own business to attend to, his own life to live. She was glad that he could remain as free-spirited as he had been before.

It was then that Sophie heard a knock on the door. The color on the circle switched back to yellow. Now that the war was over, Howl went by his own name in the two cities that he was the potions master of.

"Could you get that Sophie?" Howl asked as he flipped the bacon and eggs over again. Sophie pushed herself off the counter and walked over to the door. The door opened before her, and a young man with long blonde hair stood in the doorframe. He was dressed in red satin and velvet, and he had a black top hat sitting precariously on his head. The young man smiled upon sighting Sophie and took off his hat with a grand sweep.

"Hello Sophie. How have you been?" he said. Sophie was confused. She did not know who the man was. Suddenly, it dawned upon her. "Turnip head?" she cried, letting the first thing that came to her mind come out her mouth. Howl turned around from his cooking at the mention of the name. The young man smiled. "Whatever you wish to call me. Sophie, darling," the Prince paused dramatically, taking her hand in his. " I've come to make you my bride."

"Your bride?" Sophie gently loosened her hand from his. "No, I'm sorry, there must be a mistake. You don't want me. I live here… my family is here. Besides, it's been months…"

"Almost a year." The Prince walked into the Castle, and the door closed behind him. The color circle changed back to blue. Markl pushed through the door as soon as it changed. "Finally! I've been hungry for breakfast for ages, and this door wouldn't open!" the boy said, almost knocking into the Prince. The small boy looked up at the newcomer. "Oh! Turnip head! I haven't seen you in a while! Are you staying for breakfast?" The Prince jumped at the invitation. "Breakfast sounds wonderful. I would be much obliged if I could stay."

Sophie glanced up at Howl for the first time since she had opened the door. His eyes had an unnatural glint to them, much like they were when he changed into his bird-like form. However, his face remained just as placid as always. "Yes, it would be an honor to have the Prince for breakfast," Howl said, calmly. The old Witch walked through the door.

"Oh? Company?" she said, happy to see the newcomer. Sophie closed the door behind the old woman. For some reason she felt like running to her room.

She certainly didn't want to deal with this.


	2. The Drama That Invitations Bring

A/N: Wow! Thank you all for reviewing! I never expected to get so many reviews! Thanks for being so constructive! I won't be going on any more trips, so I should be able to update fairly often.

By the by, thanks for telling me the dog's name is Hein. That will make the story flow a little betterJ I also heard that the Prince's name is Justin. Well, I tried typing 'Prince Justin', but my mind is corrupted by the infamous N'Sync member. I can't bring myself to it. Besides, I want to have a sense of royalty to always be around his name. It'll work into the plot later, and it will make more sense then. Thank you very much for letting me know though. I might just take to calling his Justin.

State With Kings

Chapter 2: The Drama That Invitations Bring

The Prince took Sophie's hands in his once more.

"Thank you for the wonderful meal, Sophie. The finest chefs in my household could not contend with your refined culinary skill."

Sophie bit back a laugh. Apparently, he had neglected to watch the stove. It was Howl who had done all of the cooking. However, the Prince did not wait for any sort of reply before continuing.

"It would please me a great deal if you would let me return the favor by inviting you to dine at the palace." The last part he said with a degree of apprehension, as if he would receive a violent decline of his invitation as soon as the words left his mouth.

Sophie lifted her hands away from his. She knew that handholding was a gentleman's custom, but it made her feel uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, but-" she began.

The Prince immediately recognized her concern. "You may, of course, bring your…" he paused, as if trying to find the right words. "…_family_ to the palace as well." Then, with a pained look, he continued, "It would be my pleasure."

"Oh… well," Sophie stuttered. She looked back from where she stood with the Prince at the door. The Witch and Markl still sat at the kitchen table, the leftovers of breakfast piled around their elbows. They were trying not to stare at the Prince and his reluctant love, but their silence was a dead giveaway of where their attentions lay.

Sophie's eyes wandered to the staircase and lingered there for a while. Howl had excused himself from the party after the meal had ended. He seemed just as uncomfortable with the Prince as she was.

"Sophie?" the Prince said softly, trying to catch her attention again. She cringed a bit on the inside, desperately seeking an excuse to get her out of the visit. But she could think of nothing, and she disliked lying to anyone.

"Well," she thought. "Perhaps he will leave the Castle if I accept." She turned back to the Prince and managed to smile politely. "We would be honored," she said, although she felt bad about speaking for the rest of her family.

"Excellent!" the Prince said as he absent-mindedly turned his top hat in his hands. "Would tomorrow be too soon?"

"No! Tomorrow would be best," Sophie answered a bit too forcefully. She couldn't wait for the whole mess to be over. For some reason, the Prince unsettled her, and she was not sure she wanted to know why.

It was strange that the Prince should show up so suddenly, and for him to claim to be in love with her…. but she was already in love. With Howl. Howl's name touched a nerve in her mind. How would Howl take the invitation? For some reason, she dreaded telling him. Not because she was afraid of him, but because she was afraid of upsetting the balance that she had grown accustomed to.

"Shall I send my driver for you tomorrow?" the Prince asked, still turning his hat in his hands.

Sophie quickly gathered her wits about her. "No, thank you. We have our…ways of getting there. Is it dinner we'll be eating, then?"

"Of course!" The Prince answered, looking a bit perplexed at her lack of protocol knowledge. "It is only fitting."

"Then we will be there tomorrow," she said through her teeth, desperate for him to leave. Then, seeing him reach for her hands again, shouted a quick goodbye and promptly shut the door. The portal circle changed from yellow back to blue, and Sophie let out a sigh of relief.

She crossed the threshold and sat down in a vacant chair at the table. Markl's face scrunched up in a disgusted manner. "I didn't think he would ever leave! He was even worse than that customer! He didn't even buy anything!" the boy said in a huff. "Besides, I think he was wearing perfume." Sophie laughed a little at his remark. "He might have been," she said with a silly smile.

"Hm, I'll agree with the kid," said a voice from behind her. Sophie turned in her chair to see Calcifer. The flame continued. "Barely even touched his breakfast…and he still had the guts to compliment _you_ on _your_ cooking! Howl's the real victim here! No wonder he went upstairs! Couldn't stand the sight of him I suppose. If I could have left I would have!"

Sophie startled a little at the mention of Howl. She had pushed her curiosity of his whereabouts into the back of her mind, but now the curiosity took over her thoughts. She got up from the chair and quickly made her way upstairs.

"Hey, you gonna clean up this mess!" from Calcifer was the last sound she heard as she neared Howl's room. She paused outside the door, her fist only inches away from the door. She slowly knocked on the door, suddenly afraid that he had excused himself earlier because he was angry.

"Come in," came the steady reply. She carefully opened the door, and was greeted by Howl with a book in his hands. He looked up from his reading and smiled. "Hello, Sophie," he said. His voice was the same, but his eyes were strangely altered. His manner was placid as always, and that's what worried her. She never knew when he was upset or sad because he acted the same.

"The Prince left," she found herself blurting out. "He's asked us to dine with him tomorrow night."

Howl closed his book and put it back on the shelf. "Well, send my regards to him when you go," Howl answered. Sophie bit her lip.

"But, you are invited as well," she said quietly.

"I'm sure that the Prince will not miss me," Howl said as he grabbed his coat from back of the chair at his desk.

"But I want you to come."

Howl paused in his movement to look at Sophie again. "If you want me to come, I will come."

He flung the coat over his shoulder and stooped to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I would do anything for you, Sophie. Remember that," he said as he walked past where she stood at his door and continued downstairs.


	3. In Which Sophie Is Swept Off Her Feet

A/N: I lllllllliiiiiiiiiiiiivvvvvvvvvvvveeeeeeee! Sorry that I took more than a year to get this started again. It's amazing what the summer after graduation can do for you. I solemnly promise to finish this story this time around. I have lots of opportunities to write this summer, and I'm going to take advantage of every single one of them. I hope that some of you are still reading. Again, I am VERY VERY sorry I've waited so long. But the wait will be no more:)

Howl's Moving Castle

Chapter 3: In Which Sophie Is Taken and No One Notices

Fish or…more fish? That was the question.

Sophie cocked her head to the side and tried to remember the difference between the large white fish the man was holding in his right hand and the large black fish that was in his left.

"Will you be buying with us today?" the fishmonger asked through his teeth. It was a marvel that his patience had held out this long. One more request for a clarification as to fish types from Sophie would cause him to close shop for the day.

Sophie smiled politely. "No, no thank you," she answered briskly and went on her way down the market strip, ignoring the agitated looks she was receiving from Kingsford's top fish seller. She had not meant to annoy the man, but the species of fish around there were very different from those near her native home, and she rarely shopped in Kingsford anyways.

With a straw basket hanging in the crook of her arm, Sophie reached with a free hand into her dress pocket and retrieved her weekly grocery list. Frowning, she noticed that she hadn't gotten very far despite nearly two hours of shopping. However, she had come into the unfamiliar market of her own accord, so she was determined to finish what she had started.

Hastily making her way past some of the more aggressive shop keepers, Sophie thought of what lay ahead of her that night. Whenever she thought about the Prince and the impending dinner at the palace, Sophie felt like a large weight had been viciously dropped on her stomach. She could not help it if she felt somewhat friendly towards the old Turniphead, but the Prince's new fully human form made her uncomfortable. She knew that Howl did not approve of the newcomer, despite his straight-faced formalities.

Finding herself in the center of the market, Sophie held her basket close and tried not to bump into the many people that were passing her left and right. The tents and displays in that area were much closer to the street than shops further down, and Sophie could barely get through the crowd without being shoved in the wrong direction.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped itself around her waist and a hand relieved her of her basket. Sophie looked up and was glad to see it was Howl and not a stranger looking to unload her rightful, albeit meager, hoard of groceries.

"Why Sophie, fancy meeting you here," Howl said with an innocent, mocked tone in his voice.

"I can carry the basket on my own, Howl," Sophie answered, trying to act put-off by his abrupt entrance.

Howl smiled playfully. "I don't doubt it. But I feel a certain obligation to be part of the endeavor since some of the groceries will be going towards my benefit," he said. "Besides, I find it is easier to shop if there are no lines."

And without another word between them, he lifted them both into the air. As soon as her stomach adjusted to the change in altitude, Sophie couldn't keep from smiling. Watching as the sights and sounds of the marketplace became further and further away, she could forget what was troubling her about later that night.

Sophie looked over at Howl and frowned as she saw the same expression that she remembered from the first time she had met him. It was the look that always came to his face whenever he took off into the air. It was confidence and fear and joy all mixed together, and the result made Sophie's clutch on Howl's hand shaky. Howl blinked and his face relaxed. Sophie continued to frown. She didn't like the way that his eyes glinted when he was flying.

They reminded her of a time when she had almost lost him to a glint like that.

"Sophie?"

Sophie shook such fears out of her thoughts and smiled again, although this time a little less enthusiastically.

"Yes Howl?"

"What are your plans for this afternoon?"

Sophie shook the now-battered grocery list in Howl's face. "Shopping, remember?" she said.

Howl made a face as the little paper brushed up against his skin. "Can't shopping wait?" he asked with a pout. "I was hoping that we could go somewhere else."

Sophie pulled the paper away and Howl shifted his hold on her as she moved back to her original position. "Where?" she asked curiously.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Howl opened the portal door and walked out in front of her into the bright valley carpeted in flowers. With a grand sweep of his hand, Sophie followed him in and the door closed silently behind them.

The strong wind that always accompanied the field rose to greet them, and Sophie found that she had to mind her skirt from blowing too wildly. Howl stood a little ways ahead of her, facing away from Sophie. His loose white shirt was whipping across his slim frame, and his eyes were focused on nothing in particular near the horizon.

After a moment or two of quiet contemplation of their surroundings, Howl turned around and motioned for Sophie to join him. Releasing her skirts, she gladly complied. His hand slipped into hers and they began to walk towards the cottage.

It came into view quickly, and Sophie pulled Howl over to the little lake that stood close to the little house. It was her favorite place within her favorite place. With a happy sigh, she found that she felt…right. For the first time since the Prince had come to the castle, she felt peaceful and justified despite the fact that on the other side of the door all her worries crowded against the wood, no doubt trying to push through.

Howl was still beside her, but he released his grip from her hand.

"I thought that this would be a good idea," he said, thoughtfully.

"A very good idea," Sophie affirmed.

"Sophie?"

"Yes?"

Howl looked stiff for a moment as he opened his mouth to say something. But the words failed to leave his lips.

"Never mind," he said hastily as he plucked a purple flower from around his feet and placed in Sophie short hair, above her ears. She was about to protest and demand that he tell her what he was going to say, but she glanced at his face and quickly decided against it.

Her gaze finally settled on the area where she had seen Howl in his memory: the day that he had given Calcifer his heart. She was glad that it was over, and that Calcifer was no longer an unwilling slave to Howl and his household, but a lingering question had settled in her mind ever since.

"Howl?" Sophie began hesitantly. Her love looked up at her encouragingly.

"Do you ever miss your childhood?"

As soon as the question left her lips, Sophie wished she could pull it back again. She had not touched forbidden ground, but the subject still carried great unspoken weight.

After a slow moments thought, Howl looked up into the puffy white clouds and sighed.

"I missed this place," he said finally. He turned around to face Sophie and continued. "You were the reason I thought to rediscover it." He paused to bend down and pick another violet, knowing that they were her favorite.

"There were a lot of things that I missed growing up. I experienced them, but they didn't leave a mark on me. Now that I have you to…" he paused with a grin. "…_Inspire_ me, I don't think I'm missing a thing." He offered her the flower and she took it from him carefully and smiled.

"And, since you've started us on this wonderful conversational thread, do you, Sophie, miss your childhood?" he asked, sitting down in the soft, green grass.

Sophie followed suit and began to twist the small flower between her hands. "I don't think I can remember much of it anymore. Most of it is just a jumble of images and random bits of conversation. Time seems to want to take my memories away faster than I can make them!" she said with a small laugh.

Howl didn't laugh. "Maybe it was the curse," he said stiffly. Howl had always called her time under the Witch's enchantment "the curse" even though he knew the difference between a spell and a curse even better than she.

"No, I think it just comes with age," Sophie answered cheerfully. She stood up. "I'd like to stay much longer, but I think that it's time to go," she said, trying to gently remind him of their dinner plans.

"Ah, yes. We have somewhere to be this evening." Howl stood and waited for Sophie to make the first move towards the portal door. When she didn't move, he turned to leave.

"Wait!" Sophie cried, wrapping him in a backwards hug. "Don't be upset," she whispered. "It's just another dinner. You don't…have to go. If you don't want to…"

Howl shook his head, and his whole body shuddered with the effort. "No. I promised to go. Like you said, it's only one dinner," he turned around and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Besides," he said as they walked towards the door that lead them back to their castle, "It might even be a little fun."


	4. Of White Socks and Black Ties

A/N: My computer is being nice again, so I was able to update. Thank you for keeping up with me so far. I have a definite story line going now, so I believe the process will be a lot smoother. Oh! By the way: I made up the whole Kingsford market setting in the last chapter. I figured that there has to be more than two countries in existence…and with that last sentence I have made it obvious which region I live in. I'm actually in the process of reading Howl's Moving Castle. When I finish I might have more of an understanding of actual geography of the story. Review please! Thanks!

Howl's Moving Castle

Chapter 5: Of White Socks and Black Ties

Sophie nervously wrapped the end of her sleeves around her hands. She had been fidgeting ever since they had arrived at the palace, and that had been nearly two hours ago.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Markl pulling at his little black bow tie with a disgusted look on his face. In retrospect, Sophie could see that she tied it a little too tight, but at the time it had seemed like just treatment.

Earlier that afternoon, when the party had pulled out their nicest clothes, Markl had stubbornly refused to wear the black dress suit that Sophie had found hidden in the back of his closet underneath countless unrecognizable old toys and broken potion bottles. Markl had been so adamantly opposed to the business that he hid behind the tub in the bathroom and frightened Sophie when she came in to take her bath. In the end, Markl was in the suit and Sophie took care to watch him and make sure he didn't shed any clothing along the way to the palace.

Back in the present, Sophie sighed and watched the little hand of the large grandfather clock on the opposite side of the room slowly creep around its circular path. Every time another second had passed, the hand would emit a very light clicking noise, but everyone in the room seemed to hear it. The room that they had been waiting in was large with tall ceilings, and every sound echoed through it in a foreboding manner.

Howl sat in a medium-sized, elegant gold chair next to Sophie. His eyes were fixed on an impressive portrait of a large, furry dog. He had been staring at the portrait for so long that Sophie began to suspect he had fallen asleep with his eyes open again. Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, the Witch was busy exclaiming things like "what a lovely room!" and "I wonder who this could be?" whenever she turned towards one of the numerous paintings that surrounded them.

Just when Sophie was ready to give up on the dinner altogether, the Prince made his grand entrance. The double doors at the end of the hall swung open violently and two impressive looking men dressed in red velvet appeared and each took hold of their respective doorknob.

Three men in a single file line came next, each bearing various inanimate objects in their hands. One carried a moderate sized canvas, another a glass of water, and the other a small velvet box. Each man held the objects with the care of handling something like a newborn baby, and none of the three looked up from their careful tasks.

Finally, the Prince stepped through the door. "My honored guests!" he cried with a grand sweep of his arms. He immediately walked towards Sophie, taking her hand and kissing it in the proper style. "And, of course, my darling Sophie," he added quietly.

Sophie was not sure what made her more uncomfortable: his use of the word 'darling' or the apparent rudeness of his late entrance. She understood that he was a prince, and as such an exact schedule was hard to come by, but he had invited them to his home at the time. It had been hard enough just to get everyone out of the castle, let alone encouraging a brisk pace to their destination.

But, in spite of her inner thoughts, Sophie replied, "It is our honor, your Highness."

The Prince smiled, and finally released her hand. "Shall we dine, then? My chefs have prepared something exquisite, no doubt. Of course, it is nothing compared to _your_ cooking, Sophie…" he added, his voice trailing off as he moved towards the doors through which he had just entered. Then, as if realizing that he had forgotten something, he turned around and offered Sophie his arm.

"Oh….I," Sophie began. She glanced over at Howl, now wide awake, and tried to determine whether or not he was going to rescue her. When it became apparent that he was indifferent to her plight, she grabbed the fragile arm of the Witch. "I…" she began, but an explanation was now rendered unnecessary. The Prince straightened himself up and continued on down the hallway as if he had never paused.

Sophie held onto the Witch's arm dutifully and, with a moment's glance at a placid Howl, continued down the hall and past the double doors at its end.

Once Markl, the disgruntled last of their party, had crossed the threshold the two men holding open the double doors slid in between the polished wood and closed them silently behind their stately figures. This was done with such a grace that only monotonous repeat could cultivate.

From the hall, the party proceeded into a large gallery which held more likeness of white dogs and cross women and men, each more grandly adorned than the last. Sophie's gaze rarely sat on one painting, for the longer she stared the more she felt hundreds of cold eyes looking at her with a disdain that could only be explained by her rudeness.

She had a hard time keeping up with the Witch, something she had not anticipated. The aged woman was the picture of youth as she took in all she saw and walked quickly to keep up with the brisk pace of the Prince. _Well, after all,_ Sophie thought, _the last time she was in a palace was hardly like this. _

The only disadvantage that came from the Witch's new sense of strength was the way she insisted on being so close to the Prince and his servants. Sophie did not want to walk too close to him. He did not seem like the same person who had visited her in the castle yesterday. He was not just a gentleman, he was…royal. Royalty demanded respect…worship, even. For a moment it seemed unreal that she knew the Prince at all, that he had spoken to her as his equal in a kitchen when he should have been wandering the great, golden rooms of his own home.

"Pleasant, isn't it?"

Sophie jumped as she heard Howl's voice and realized that he had caught up with the Witch's vigorous pace.

"Yeah, wonderful," Markl piped up from the back of the line. Noticing the way the young boy fidgeted and played with his clothes, Sophie turned her head to look at Markl directly and reminded him to stop pulling at his bow tie.

"It will only tighten and choke you," she said with a straight face. Markl's hands immediately dropped and his eyes widened.

"Really?" he asked curiously. Sophie answered with an indistinct nod and consoled herself to her lie with the possibility that such a thing could happen. What Markl had not put together was that the bow tie was something like a clip on with only one tie in the back.

Howl was still walking by her side, even as they entered a large dining hall, which Sophie predicted was the one they were looking for. However, she had been expecting an empty table. To her shock and slight dismay, the long polished wood with its elaborate gold-lined chairs held several important-looking people, most of them female.

The Prince's astonishment was nothing compared to hers though. He had stopped dead in his tracks as soon as the two servants in charge of the many double doors inside the palace had cleared the way. The manner in which he was turned allowed Sophie to see his face. At first it seemed like he was only shocked, then angry, then outraged.

Feeling the tension that seemed to float in the air between the Prince and the occupants of the table – particularly the one that sat at the head- Sophie unconsciously moved closer to Howl. He in turn smiled comfortingly in her direction and then turned his eyes to the scene that lay before them.

Suddenly, the man at the head of the table stood up, his chair loudly protesting such violent movement against the polished wooden floor.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Seat your guests," he commanded without sounding too stern. He had a stiff smile on his face that Sophie suspected was a suppressed chuckle.

The Prince glared at the man but did as he was told. "Of course, excuse me. This way," he said, extending his arm out to signal his party to continue in front of him and find a seat.

The Prince's three servants, still bearing their objects, took their places in the shadows of one of the great walls that stretched a long way to connect with the high ceiling.

As Sophie passed by the Prince caught her arm lightly. "Lady," he began, "please permit me to show you to your seat." He motioned to a servant who appeared seemingly out of no where, and the skinny young man took the Witch's other arm and led her around the table. Seeing this unfold without incident, Sophie smiled slightly and took the Prince's arm.

Instead of leading her to a chair near her family, the Prince seated her next to the grandest lady in the room. Her hair was an unusual pale gold and her eyes were a dazzling green. The woman's dress was equally beautiful with its many graceful ruffles, gold threading and pale green tint.

Compared to this woman, Sophie felt smaller than she had when they had first approached the front gates of the palace. She had never seen the estate before, and Howl had laughed when he noticed her awed expression. It was much larger than any of the other palaces she had seen. Instead of using its mere height to impress, the building spread over acres of land, hulking like a great stone animal. The moment was shattered, however, when Howl made a comment about the retail value of such a structure, causing Sophie to roll her eyes and sigh exaggeratedly.

Glancing to the lady currently at her left, Sophie also regretted her choice of wardrobe. She should have listened to Howl when he suggested she go in a new dress instead of her signature blue number. Well, it hadn't been her signature dress for quite some time, but she had decided to wear it despite Howl's advice. She didn't want to bring attention to herself or make the Prince think that she would go out of her way to look different for him. It was silly, and Sophie couldn't recall why such a thought had entered her mind at all.

The lady, unaware of the discomfort she caused Sophie, turned demurely to her side and smiled politely.

After pushing Sophie's chair in to the point of his liking, the Prince took his seat on her other side. Feeling trapped by more than just her position at the table, Sophie was almost glad to hear the man at the end of the table speak again.


	5. Bejewled Knives and Revelations

A/N: So, more death coming from my computer. Just as I was uploading this chapter, I realized that only 3/4ths of the last chapter loaded. Arg! I was really upset because I felt like the last part of Chapter 5 was the best part but alas, you as the reader will never know it. It's actually all for the best. I've decided to go in a different direction with the story (well, not _that_ different).

Updates have the potential to be spotty in the future due to college move-in, but I will make sure to finish. I predict that there will be about two more chapters. I promise not to make you wait too long!

And, as always, thank you for reading and reviewing!

State With Kings

Chapter 6: Bejeweled Knives and Revelations

(Immediately following the last sentence of Chapter 5)

"Will you not introduce your guests?" the man at the end of the table asked with only a hint of condescension in his voice.

The Prince uttered a sound like a bit back sigh and slowly rose back to his feet. Then, seemingly composing himself, put on a well-mannered face complete with tranquil smile.

"Of course, sir," he began. "Dearest Sophie, may I present my father, the King of-", but Sophie heard no more of his speech. She let out a long, silent breath as the King's gaze fixed upon her. Her mind fogged over briefly.

The King! Of course, it had been likely that the man sitting at the head of the table in a palace _would_ be the master, but Sophie felt herself paling at the thought of sitting so close to such an important man.

As the Prince droned on introducing the many women around the table, Sophie's consciousness had only room for the shock she had just received. She quickly snuck a glance at the King before returning her gaze to a spot on the wall across from where she sat.

From the quick look Sophie assessed that the King was middle-aged, fit, and not half as frightening as he might have been. While listening to the Prince's eloquent introductions, the King wore a countenance of severity tempered with benevolence.

Sophie relaxed her shoulders and returned her attention to the Prince just in time to be properly introduced to the ethereal lady at her side.

"The last of my fair cousins, Jocelyn," he said and walked to where the fine lady sat and proceeded to kiss her hand in the gentleman's style.

Jocelyn smiled radiantly at her cousin and then turned to look at Sophie.

"I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Hatter," Jocelyn said, and her voice, though lower than Sophie had imagined it to be, was the sweetest Sophie had ever heard. "We have heard so much about you," Jocelyn added.

Sophie puzzled a moment over Jocelyn's last comment. How could a beautiful lady like Jocelyn hear about a plain little mouse like herself? It was probably due to the fact that the Prince and Jocelyn seemed to have a close relationship. Sophie couldn't recall the Prince hopping out of his seat to take the hand of any of his other cousins. Naturally the Prince would have discussed his dinner plans with his favorite cousin. But from the way that Jocelyn had sparkled such familiarity down on her, Sophie suspected that she had been discussed more than she wished to be.

"It-it's a pleasure to meet you too," Sophie answered with a shaky smile.

This seemed very agreeable to Jocelyn, who then turned to the King and said, "Dear Uncle, can we not now start our excellent meal? Our guests are now most properly announced and settled."

This also seemed the right thing to say as the King broke out into a very amiable smile and stood up from his grand seat at the table.

"Of course, dearest niece. Chef," he called and then clapped his hands.

The room was suddenly filled to the brim with servants rushing about with stacks of food on silver trays while a great, stocky man in the middle of the commotion gesticulated widely as if to communicate to the King and his guests the utmost care he had put into the assortment of food they saw before them.

With a growing feeling that she was taking in a show and not a dinner, Sophie looked down the table at her family. As soon as she laid eyes on familiar faces, Sophie felt much less out of place.

Sophie saw the jubilant face of the Witch as the old woman watched the portly chef prance around the anxious-looking young men carefully carrying their trays of food and looking quite afraid that they would drop them before the chef was finished.

Sophie's gaze shifted to Markl. During this bustle, the young boy had apparently thought it the opportune moment to take off his shoes and socks under the table. Sophie's gaze narrowed to all but a glare until Markl caught her eye and reluctantly began putting his white socks back on.

Satisfied with herself for catching Markl in such an act, Sophie happily turned her gaze to Howl. She was greeted by a straight faced wizard watching the spectacle with as much interest as a student attending a lecture might possess.

He finally returned her glance and lifted his knife to her view. Howl pointed at a very large jewel that sat on the handle of the utensil with a twinge of amusement. Sophie nodded and muffled a nervous sort of laugh. She understood exactly what Howl was trying to convey. The forks, knives, and spoons at the table were much too fancy to use in the proper way. Just as she lifted her gilded spoon to determine how she should hold it, a hurried waiter stopped at her place and laid a gold bowl of soup in front of her.

Before she could even manage to thank the boy he was off to the kitchen again. Sophie kept her grip on the spoon she held as she realized in utter horror how many different spoons were laid out on her placemat. Sophie found that she was suddenly very upset with Fanny for neglecting to teach her daughters more of the important things in life besides trimming hats.

As soon as the thought entered her mind, however, Sophie scolded herself for being so ridiculous. Fanny had probably never dreamed that her children would attend a royal dinner.

Sophie did not have to distress herself much longer, because the Prince noticed her plight at last.

"The spoon farthest from the bowl," he whispered helpfully.

"Thank you," Sophie whispered back.

The Prince did not look like this was all he meant to say. After making sure that the King was suitably distracted by his many nieces, the Prince leaned closer to Sophie.

"I am very sorry that we could not have a more private meal," he said. "My father seems to be under the impression that I am unable to handle my own social affairs."

The Prince paused in a dramatically stricken way. "I also wish to apologize for my lateness in greeting you and your excellent family," he said, recovering enough to look sincere. "Unfortunately affairs of state detained me. Can't let the nation fall apart, now can we?"

The Prince seemed to find this very clever as he straightened back in to his chair, smiling to himself. Sophie sighed internally. She understood the Prince's responsibilities, but all the same she dreaded the complaints she would hear on the way home.

"Next course!" the King called, this time not even bothering to rise from his seat. Another wave of frightened servants exploded from the double doors at the end of the hall. Sophie no sooner looked up at the scene before an arm reached around her seat and relieved her of her soup bowl.

"Wait! I…uh," Sophie began, but it was too late. Her untouched bowl was gone and her stomach grumbled agitatedly. Determined to have enough time to eat heartily next course, Sophie focused her attention on her plate and ignored the hustle and bustle around her.

Another arm shot into her line of vision and a small plate of sorbet appeared in the same place the bowl of soup had sat. Sophie's eye twitched. Sorbet; naturally it had to be sorbet. Nothing could be less filling.

"To cleanse the pallet," the Prince said again, thinking that he was being helpful. Sophie answered with a curt nod. She knew what sorbet was.

A light clicking sound reached Sophie's ears, and she looked up to find Markl standing up in his seat, his hand against the table for balance, upsetting his dinnerware. The Witch was leaning over to look at the space between herself and Howl. Howl was staring at the cloth napkin in front of him in a thoughtful sort of way.

He lifted one of his hands, and the extra material of his sleeve drooped down his arm past his elbow. Howl closed his eyes and flicked his wrist so quickly that Sophie could not be sure if he had moved or not. The napkin abruptly shifted itself into several directions and seemed to squirm under an unseen pressure.

Finally, the cloth pulled itself together to form a shape. Sophie heard Markl laugh in delight and the Witch exclaim "oh my! what fun!" Sophie leaned over her plate and almost ran her hair through the sorbet.

She smiled when she caught sight of the napkin. It had been twisted into the shape of a swan, but that was not the most extraordinary aspect of it. The swan napkin would occasionally arch its crème head back or lift its cloth wings as glittery strands of an unknown substance danced around the form cheerfully.

Sophie gazed back at Howl. His action was probably inappropriate for the dinner table -at least as they had instructed Markl, much to his dismay- but Sophie found she didn't mind that much. The dinner was becoming less and less daunting as the time went by. She sent Howl a contented smile, despite the fact that her stomach was still growling agitatedly.

However, Howl was too occupied with his latest magic trick, and didn't notice her in the slightest. Sophie shrugged her shoulders slightly and was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to realize that Lady Jocelyn was trying to speak to her.

"Miss Hatter?"

Jocelyn's gentle voice shook Sophie out of her thoughts.

"Yes?" Sophie answered.

Jocelyn laid her sorbet spoon gently down on her silver dish and gave Sophie her full attention.

"My dear cousin has expressed a wish that we should get to know one another better. I tell you now, Miss Hatter, there is nothing that would give me more pleasure," she said.

Sophie smiled warmly at the thought of talking to someone as good-natured as Jocelyn. None of the other "fair cousins" at the table had so much as batted an eye at her.

"I would be very glad to know you, Lady Jocelyn," Sophie replied as she glanced around the table.

Jocelyn smile faded so quickly that Sophie was afraid she had said something wrong.

"I know what you are thinking," Lady Jocelyn started. "You must think my family very rude. But you must forgive them. They are still getting over the shock."

Sophie tilted her head curiously. "What shock is that?" she asked.

Lady Jocelyn blinked. "Why, the wedding, of course. I mean, once my cousin came back after that awful disappearance and declared that he had found his true love, the King was absolutely furious. I must admit, I was quite surprised considering his engagement to-"

"With…with the Prince!" Sophie exclaimed, cutting Jocelyn off. She was about to violently abolish the idea, but then Sophie realized that all eyes at the table were on herself and Jocelyn.

She saw the King, wearing an unreadable expression on his face, his eyes on her as if they were able to see right into her, where all her secrets were kept. Jocelyn still wore her mystified expression, but her face had relaxed and was trying to look comforting. The Prince looked utterly embarrassed by the situation, but he had managed to keep his head up and his glance direct.

The King stirred in his chair and finally spoke, breaking the uneasy silence in the room.

"Are we incorrect in assuming that you have accepted my son's proposal?" His Highness asked, his tone as indecipherable as his expression.

Sophie regained her sense quick enough to glare at the Prince. Truly, she wished that she could make him disappear and stop all the trouble he had caused since stepping foot in the castle.

"Sir," she began respectfully. "I was never offered any proposal of marriage…" Sophie was about to finish her sentiments with more passionate words, but she happened to catch Howl in her line of vision.

The expression Howl wore broke her heart and scared her out of her wits at the same time. The same queer appearance that Sophie remembered seeing the morning that the Prince had first knocked on the castle door visited his face. Though it seemed that this time it was mixed with some other emotion that Sophie could not make out. At first, his form seemed like it would be fixed to his seat forever, and Sophie's stare with it, but Howl balled his fist against the table and stood.

"Forgive me," he began, and his voice was hollow sounding as if the strange light in his eyes had put out the fires within. "But I believe I must excuse myself. I have urgent business to conduct."

Markl made a movement as if to leave with him, but Howl shook his head in protest.

"Of course," the King finally answered. Howl bowed to the King and his nieces and departed through the double doors.

A moment passed as if it were an eternity as Sophie tried to sort out what had just happened, but her mind kept returning to the same point. It was all her fault! If only she hadn't accepted the Prince's invitation. If only the Prince had not… And then everything began to spin in front of her. Howl had been right to be upset. The Prince had never meant to be her friend, he had meant to make good on that vow that he heard by the Witch and relayed to Sophie at a later time.

Sophie stood up quickly and looked down at the Prince's sitting form.

"I do not wish to see you again. Please do not call on me again," she said with daggers in every one of her words. And, without another word, collected Markl and the Witch to the door without looking back.


	6. In Which There Is Much Drama

A/N: This is a really dramatic and weird chapter…I apologize. One more after this! Thank you for all the reviews! I'm sorry I haven't updated in about a month. College eats my soul, little by little every day.

State With Kings

Chapter 7: In Which There Is Much Drama

Though Sophie was grabbing him solidly by the wrist, Markl knew better than to bring it to her attention. He hadn't understood what had just happened in the dining hall, but he had understood that whatever it was, he would do well to stay out of it. To be seen and not heard sounded like a privilege to the young boy at this point. Markl, careful to stay even with Sophie's pace, glanced around the former cleaning lady's walking form at the Witch who was trailing along by Sophie's opposite side. The old woman was still looking around at the portraits and statues they passed, but made no exclamatory remarks.

Sophie had not allowed her view to stray from the path immediately before her. Markl was not sure of where they were going, and he had a right to be a little frightened. The fact that Sophie had not said a word since they had left the dining hall was scary enough for the young boy. Sophie always had something to say, especially to him.

With a sickening jolt, Markl found himself dragged down several staircases and through several large doors, each manned by servants looking flustered and more than a little confused. Guests of the King rarely displayed such emotions; they waited until they left the palace gates in order to keep in the King's good graces. Finally, in a time that seemed to span an hour, Markl and the Witch found themselves at the main entrance to the palace. Sophie promptly let go of their appendages with the same urgency that touching a hot coal would produce. Without addressing her family, Sophie marched up to the nearest butler. "Excuse me, sir," she began, her words cutting the uncertain silence around the trio. "But have you seen a Master Howl leave this way? He is about a half a foot taller than me, dark hair," she added, cupping her hands around her chin to illustrate the wizard's hair length. Her tone was surprisingly calm and polite, albeit determined. The young man shook his head slightly. "No ma'am. No one has left the palace since your excellent party has arrived."

Sophie looked away from the man and nodded. "Very well, I shall have to go and find him then," she announced to her captive audience. She then turned towards Markl and the Witch. "You should probably go home…this will taken a while," she began. "Markl, take care and make sure to keep up with Witch in the marketplace."

"Sure, Sophie. But what are you going to..?" Markl called after Sophie's retreating figure. Unfortunately, his question came too late; the young woman had already turned the corner of a very immense wall.

BR 

Sophie could not help but fume as she opened a glut of doors and looked down even more hallways. How had things gone from polite conversation to strange proposals of marriage in no time flat? She had had barely any time to think clearly, but it was obvious that Howl had not shared her problem. That was another point that bothered her. Howl had been so quick to leave, as if he was willing to believe in such a ridiculous lie. It was almost like he had given up on her.

Shaking the very thought out of her mind, Sophie ripped open the doors nearest her and was taken aback as she realized that she had entered a room whose walls were completely covered in mirrors. A shiver ran down her spine as she experienced a strange form of déjà vu, but she brushed aside this feeling too, because she found she was not the only occupant of the room.

"Howl?" she spoke softly. She was not exactly sure what he was feeling right now. Even if he had been facing her, his face would never give anything away. Sophie had always questioned his moods, and was always surprised when they turned out to be the opposite of what she expected. Though she was getting much better at reading his face, his movements, and his voice. Yes, that had to count for something.

It was nerve wracking the way that he was making her wait. He had not said anything, and Sophie began to wonder if she would ever hear his voice again. Would her words sit there in the air until they became an almost tangible thing?

Finally, in a voice so placid and yet laced with a hundred different meanings, Howl spoke. "Yes, Sophie?" he replied, not turning from his stance near the fountain. As soon as he spoke the words, Sophie nearly sighed in relief. It was strange how she had expected him to not to answer; how she expected him to disappear before her eyes.

But what could she say? What was she trying to say? Sophie wanted to cry out that it was not her fault, that the Prince was to blame, but she knew better than that. She must have led the Prince on; she must have made him think matrimony possible.

"What are you going to do?" she found herself asking before she could think of anything better to say.

There was a long pause. "Nothing," came the response from Howl.

Nothing? What did that mean? Was he really giving up? She wouldn't let him.

"Neither am I," she stated quietly as she stared into the mirror, catching a glimpse of his reflection before his back moved to shield it from her vision.

"You can't do nothing," he countered, still unmoving. Sophie practically huffed at him.

"Then what should I do?" she struck back.

There was a long silence.

"Marry him," Howl answered, though the words were so faint that Sophie could barely hear him.

Sophie stopped breathing. For a moment it seemed as if the room was turning upside down, and she was falling, but Howl wasn't. Howl was secure and steady, as always. He was logical and calm, and mature and childlike, and Sophie decided that it wasn't fair. It had never been fair to begin with, but she had dealt with it and never berated it.

Sophie grasped her hands together, the only two things that she could still feel, still be sure of. She sucked in a long breath. "Is that what you want Howl?" she asked, her voice much stronger than his had been. "Do you think that I want to be his bride?"

A mirror cracked, sending miniature pieces of glass across the floor. Howl turned on his heel. "Of course not!" he cried out loudly.

Sophie flinched. His face was so different than it had been only half an hour ago. It was distorted, like when he had nearly been turned into a puppet demon; when she had almost lost him before. That made her angry. He was hiding behind something that Sophie had done her best to take away from him: his fear. Sophie glared at Howl.

"What do you mean by that? Why are you acting like I did this?" she shouted, the process feeling surprisingly therapeutic. "You don't really want me to marry him, but for some reason you're afraid that I do!"

Howl merely stared at her. "You would be a fool not to," he said, his voice significantly lowered. "A queen or a cleaning lady? Which position is more worthy?"

"I like my lot in life just fine, and I would not appreciate scraping behind that man for the rest of my life. You think very little of me, if you think that I can be that easily swayed into another man's arms," Sophie retorted agitatedly.

Howl just looked at her. He kept looking at her for so long that Sophie was about to reprimand him for being so spacey.

"Well?" she prodded, her manner still irritated.

Howl blinked, and the face was gone. He wasn't quite what he had been before entering the palace, but the mask was beginning to melt.

"I need to go home," he stated. And with that, left the room and a very confused Sophie behind.

BR 

Markl could not wait to be back at the Castle. He did not like leaving Sophie and Master Howl behind, but he could not stand being at the palace any longer. After Sophie had abandoned them, Markl had tried to wait for her return in the foyer, but after long minutes of awkward silence between himself, the Witch, and a few dozen guards, home and Heen beckoned him a lot louder than did his commitment to his insane family.

After all, Sophie and Howl had left _him_. Turning a corner, Markl caught sight of the Castle's main door.

"Come on ma'am, just a little further," Markl exclaimed, pulling a very slow paced Witch behind him.

"Not so fast!" she pleaded, her feet moving faster than they probably ever had.

Markl paid no attention; they were almost home! Once they were home, they could start worrying about Howl and Sophie, but not now. Not until they reached the Castle.

But Howl beat them there. Markl barely saw the wizard go by before the older figure was through the door and had closed it securely behind him. Markl continued his pace, running up the small flight of steps up to the door.

He tugged on the doorknob. No luck. The door was locked.

"Master Hoowwwll!" Markl cried pathetically. The door did not move, nor were there sounds of footsteps approaching the door.

Markl pulled off one of his good shoes and threw it at the entrance.

"Oh, my!"

Markl paused from his show of violence to look back at the Witch. Or, rather, the Witch and the Prince's coach that was fast approaching from down the street.

With a final act of defiance, Markl pulled off his little black bow tie and ground it beneath his heel. It was at that very moment that the little boy swore never to play a game that involved any type of hierarchal system ever again.


	7. In Which There Is Much Violence

_**Chapter 8: In Which There Is Much Righteous Violence**_

The street was muddy and the evening crowd was large, but Sophie Hatter did not condescend to care. She merely hiked up her skirts, a practice which Fanny had always found undignified, and made her way up the street, past small cars and trucks that were honking loudly. How loudly, Sophie could not guess because she was not actually hearing any of it. The only purpose that was driving her at the moment was getting back to the castle and wringing the resident wizard's delicate white neck.

Sophie could only fume and speculate over exactly what had occurred between them in that little palace room a mere half hour ago. All the horrible things that had been said...well, that had been implied anyways. Sophie had never known Howl Jenkins to be a liar per se, but as soon as she was in sight of him she hoped for a sound denial of everything that he had said concerning the prince and her. He couldn't have meant that he really wanted her to marry the Prince. He couldn't...

Sophie's brow furrowed deeper as she thought of the Prince. What right did he have to think of her as his own? No one had a right to Sophie Hatter, that was for sure. The only man who had come close to making her his had run away from her and was doing Merlin knows what.

Sophie reached the end of the street and took a quick turn around the corner into a dark, empty alleyway between two white washed buildings. Sophie glanced up at the buildings thoughtfully. She had met Howl in an alleyway and wouldn't it be fitting if she found him in one now? Fitting, but not likely; Howl's last words to her were that he was going home. At least he hadn't said "my home". That division between them really would have cut her to the core.

A sudden thought struck Sophie, turning her body cold in silent realization. Maybe Howl never had any future intentions towards her at all. This thought had entered her mind before, but she had always done her best to ignore it or to excuse it out of existence. But now the thought clung to her cruelly, making her stop in her tracks and look down at her hands. As if to calm herself down, Sophie began to rub her hands together. Her hands...the same hands that had once held Howl's, and before Howl, only Lettie's. Sophie closed her eyes to clear her vision that was steadily growing foggy under the weight of unshed tears. Sophie Hatter did not cry often, but the frustration of the whole day was beginning to take a toll on her. The castle couldn't be far now, but what would she do when she got there?

* * *

Markl glared at the display of royal pageantry that dared to show itself outside of his home. He was confused, hungry, and tired, although he would usually never announce that fact, as it was sure to send him on a one way trip to his room. Now, though, sleep seemed unlikely. 

A well dressed man hopped down from the front of the carriage where he had been driving and opened the side door with a smart pop. Markl glared with an extra amount of hatred as he watched the Prince climb down from his riding box, almost unable to control the rage inside of him. He and the Witch had walked blocks and blocks to the castle, both ways! And yet here the Prince drove up to the castle as leisurely as could be. Markl was still unsure of all that had gone on since his family had entered the palace, but he was sure that the Prince had caused all the chaos that was plaguing his household. If it were not for the anxious expression on the Prince's face, Markl would have charged on his velvet clad figure right then and there.

The Prince walked towards the small boy, oblivious of any malicious intent. He paused in front of him, looking down at Markl with a gaze that was both well-intentioned and condescending. Markl stared back at the Prince critically. "Boy," the Prince began with an unsure tone to his voice, as if he were aware how awkward it was that he could not recall Markl's name. "Is Sophie at home?" Markl quickly opened his mouth and then just as promptly closed it again. The words that had almost reached the boy's lips were ones that Sophie would have surely reprimanded him for if she were there to hear them. Markl let out a long breath and glanced over at the Witch. The old woman had situated herself on the doorstep and by the way she nodded her head, looked as though she would soon be asleep. Markl envied her calm. Finally compelling the necessary composure to his features, Markl answered the Prince with a strong, "no, sir."

The Prince straightened up and looked up and down the street anxiously. The lamplight outside of Wizard Jenkins shop barely reached the far corner of the royal carriage, causing the Prince to walk away from Markl and out past the glow of the night lights. After a few moments of cautious silence in which Markl was mentally compiling a list of foul things that could happen to Princes in the dark, a new figure emerged from the midnight gloom.

"Sophie!" cried Markl, a smile replacing the confused frown that he had worn about his features the entirety of the evening. He ran to greet her, but was forced to walk quickly in order to keep up with her pace. "Where have you been anyways? I took the Witch back here, like you told me to. Did you see the Prince on the road? I was really polite to him, even though I don't like him. Oh, and Howl locked the door, so that's why the Witch and I are out here. I know I'm supposed to be inside after dark, but I couldn't open the door so..." Markl paused to draw breath as the two halted in front of the locked door.

* * *

Sophie could feel some of her initial anger returning to her as she walked down the street that would lead her to the castle. Anger was easier to deal with than uncertainty, and she could build of plenty of anger once she allowed herself to. Stomping her feet against the chilled cobblestone she was instantly glad that it was only early fall and the weather was not yet cold enough to cause anyone except the oldest members of the community grief, though had the weather been colder she would have had another reason to be frustrated. She had quickly dropped from self doubt into self pity and from there to self righteousness, rendering any explanation that Howl had to offer moot to her own unarguable points. 

As she neared the glowing lamplight of the Jenkins' establishment, the emotionally charged witch caught sight of the last person she wanted to see: the Prince, of course. Not taken by surprise, Sophie continued on her steady march; the brisk pace she had kept since leaving the castle had not caught up with her yet. The Prince went to greet her, annoying oblivious to the true depths of which her anger had reached. With one look Sophie Hatter silenced the exasperating royal and allowed her feet to stop in their course for a mere second's time. Many words rushed into Sophie's mind, but only a few, tense phrases escaped her lips.

"What right-?" she began, then closed her mouth in fury again.

"What were you-?" Silence again.

"Leave."

The last word that she uttered evoked a desired effect. The Prince looked taken aback and, for once, was speechless. Sophie did not wait for a well constructed reply. She had to talk to Howl immediately; the Prince was not worth her time.

Waltzing past the royal, Sophie stepped into the lamplight and into a hurried conversation with Markl. When she heard that Howl had locked the door, the fire inside her was stoked. Sophie stamped up to the stoop before the polished wooden door and knocked against the door using both of her fists and all of her strength. "Howl Jenkins! You open this door right now or I will BREAK IT DOWN!" she cried, allowing her scrunched up hands to batter the door with their own will.

Nothing stirred inside, not a creak of the wooden floors or the familiar crackle of Calcifer. Instead of being put off by Howl's indifference to her demand, Sophie quickly made another one.

"Markl." The boy snapped to attention. "Ask for a knife from the Prince's coach masters. They're bound to have one."

Markl nodded and ran off to the master sitting on top of the carriage, horses' reins in his hands. After an excited shout from Markl and a cool reply from the master, Markl was back with his prize. Sophie took the knife from Markl's small hand and lunged at the carriage's wheels. She would break off a spoke from one of the wheels and pry open the castle door with it. If that didn't work, she could always throw the stick through the window. Calcifer was sure to know better than to guard the castle against _ her_ attack. The carriage masters made to stop her, but unseen to Sophie's eyes the Prince held up his hand to halt them as if in quiet defeat.

The spoke was hard won but worth her time, and once it was free Sophie made for the entrance of the castle. Pushing her stick between the door and frame she found she was getting no where. The window was her only other option. She broke the window easily, and but for an eerie release of wind, nothing inconvenient happened. Sophie brushed the stray glass away and found her footing against the building, quickly lifting herself up onto the window seal. She looked back at Markl and the Prince's entourage and was amazed at how far her righteous anger had brought her. Turning around on the seal, her thoughts drifted again to the wizard who had cowardly hid from her in his mismatched fortress. For better or for worse, Sophie had to straighten the whole mess out for herself or risk the possibility of being trapped in another one of Howl's seductive mind games, the ones that he himself did not know he initiated.

This would be the end of them...at least for her.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for waiting so long to update! I was really encouraged by some recent readers and was reinvigorated to finish this story up. I know I originally said that I would only have one more chapter, but I decided to make it two I like to keep the chapter on the short side for my own sanity. I promise that this time I will not wait an entire year to update. Remember, your comments will help me write faster!_

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	8. In Which There Is Mention of Moonlight

A/N: Okay, here goes! Last chapter everybody! Thanks for sticking with this story, and I really appreciate the comments that I've received over the (very) long evolution of State with Kings. Oh, and to clear up a bit of confusion, the way I write Sophie is a combination between book verse and movie verse. I referred to Sophie as "the witch" last chapter, so that was a little taste of the book Sophie. Otherwise this is pretty much based off of Miyazaki's creation.

Anyways, thanks again and enjoy!

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Chapter 8: In Which There Is Much Mention of Moonlight**

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The Prince stared at the tips of his well kempt black boots and let the full force of Sophie's command wash over him. _Leave..._ How was it possible for this misunderstanding to escalate into such a situation, and why was he always looking to the meanings of things? That unwanted characteristic was what had brought him to his knees that evening, what had made him believe that Sophie was in love with him. Sure, when he had first knocked on the door of the very establishment he was now standing in front of he had known that Sophie had chosen to live with the wizard. But he had seen this preference as more of a means of comfort and security, rather like a child's attachment to a blanket or stuffed bear; perhaps at most a mild attachment with delusions of grandeur. But he had seen the way that Sophie had fought her way into the wizard's castle...and away from himself. _Leave_. It was such a cold thing to say, though he could hardly expect any better. 

Then suddenly a thought was brought to the forefront of the Prince's mind where it had no doubt been lurking for quite some time. This blatant refusal of Sophie's put him at a great inconvenience. Now he would have to go through with the promise he had made to his father so long ago. The Prince bit his lower lip in annoyance. This type of thing _would _happen to him wouldn't it? It wasn't enough that he had been turned into a scarecrow for those long months...

Without allowing himself to turn back towards the scene of his latest discomfiture, he turned on his heel and motioned to his footmen to attend him. It was time to go home.

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Sophie's first instinct was to check the closets, for some reason. Upon entry she immediately ran towards the steps, anxious to be upstairs and ignoring the fact that Calcifer sat quietly in his grate, watching the proceedings with a blank stare and a bluish pallor. His subdued mood did not disturb her as much as the silence that muffled the rest of the house. She cursed Howl for not causing a fit, not spreading goo across the floor she had recently cleaned. Then she would know where to find him and she wouldn't feel the least bit sympathetic, no matter what his reasons for treating her so coldly were. Finding no luck with closets she began to open the various rooms upstairs. The magical almanacs spread across the floor of Markl's room didn't faze her, nor did the sullen colors of the Witch's tidy room. She hurried past them both and moved towards Howl's door while both craving and dreading to arrive there and see what she would find. As her hand pressed against the door handle Sophie was expecting to find Howl's room altered. The last time she had entered his room in such an agitated state there had been two tunnels awaiting her instead of the cold glow of the wizard's prized possessions. She turned the handle full of expectation and pushed the door open with a taste of the old vengeance she had felt outside. The door slammed into the wall behind it, but it was not the hallow sound of wood meeting rock. 

Sophie blinked. The room was empty and there were plenty of odd gold instruments twinkling happily as if nothing were amiss. She walked into the room not at all squeamish to enter when Howl was not in bed. The atmosphere there was too calm, yet the silence pressed heavily against her, making her more anxious and weary. Sophie turned her snowy head towards the narrow beams of moonlight that pierced through the heavy curtain that Howl normally kept drawn. She lifted herself off the bed and stumbled towards the dull light, her foot catching on the edge of Howl's massive four poster bed. She steadied herself against the window ledge and looked out at the midnight view of the castle's yard framed against wispy gray clouds that flitted around the edges of the moonlight, casting patches of deeper darkness against the grass. How many evenings had she sat in the yard while watching Markl catch fireflies, when the castle had flown low enough to attract them? How many more had she spent with Howl, standing out on the tallest balcony and gazing down at the picturesque villages and landscape below? And now Howl was trying to take that lifestyle from her. She had never been so happy in the short amount of time that she had been alive and he had told her to marry the Prince.

Suddenly her heart caught in her throat as she spotted a lone figure on the balcony where so many of her memories lingered. She cursed herself for not checking so obvious a place. Her feet could not possibly carry her fast enough to this confrontation. The castle was dark but she did not stumble again. Sophie ran down the stairs and grabbed the back door's handle. She thought she heard a small word of encouragement from the fire grate, but the sound did not faze her. She pushed into the cool of the backyard and wasted no time in climbing the winding stairs that led to the balcony. She made no effort to muffle her steps against the iron staircase. Let Howl know that she was coming, let him be anxious for once that night. Sophie paused on the last step, breathless and angry yet suddenly reluctant. Howl's solitary figure had not turned to face her, and yet how could ignore the stare that was boring into the back of his head?

Even by the dull moonlight and distant starlight Sophie could make out the bluish tint to his hair and the porcelain fragility of his features. Howl had always struck her as a particularly beautiful man, yet now his beauty held no fascination for her. Part of the reason that Howl's presence had affected her in the past was because she believed that she had been held in the same awe and that even though their physical beauty did not compare, their esteem for one another was equal. But there was nothing like that to depend on now. Sophie took a deep breath and stepped forward to touch the very edge of Howl's shoulder. He did not turn to face her as the gentle touch swayed his body towards the railing and back to its original position. She called his name softly, though her original intent had been to scream it out over the darkness. When he failed to acknowledge her again, she _did _shout, and perhaps he could feel the force of her words because he finally stirred from his stiff stance.

Howl shifted his feet so that he could see her out of the corner of his eye. "You're back then?" he asked with a degree of surprise and what Sophie could only place as disappointment.

Sophie's brows furrowed into a single, deadly point. "You've always been a bright one, haven't you?" she retorted huffily. "How dare you leave me like that? What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that it was time I left the palace," Howl replied calmly. "I knew my company...well, it would not be desirable much longer. Besides, it would have been tragic to disrupt the Prince's dinner in such a way." Sophie could detect the loathing that dripped from Howl's words, but the observation did nothing to allay her temper. "You did disrupt the dinner! But I didn't care because I thought I knew the reason why," Sophie said. "It's obvious I didn't."

Her thoughts raced to recover all the points she had wanted to make since she left the palace. "If you wanted me to marry the Prince you're going to have to get used to disappointment because unlike you I have a backbone and the guts enough to confront someone every once in a while." She paused, her breathing heavy and her attention focused on Howl.

"But what will you do?" Howl asked quietly.

"I'm a housekeeper, remember? I may not be 'Grandma Sophie' anymore but my hands still remember work."

"But why would you?" Howl countered with a sudden fierceness that started Sophie. He turned on his heel to face her for the first time. "Why would you settle for such a life when you could be Queen?"

"Because it's the life I want!" she cried out, her eyes beginning to swim with her frustration and the emotional force of their words. "I don't want him!"

The words knocked the breath out of Sophie but the little that remained caught in her throat. This was it- either Howl was going to reject her once and for all or...

She took another cautious step forward and looked Howl square in the eye. "I want you, Howl," she said determinedly.

The breeze stirred, bringing with it a light salty scent of the sea that was shining quietly below them. The castle was cheerfully silent as the two figures on it's highest balcony stared at each other, their countenances lit only by the moon that had burst forth from a particularly troublesome black cloud. Breaking the peace, Howl turned towards her with a familiar smile playing across his features. "Then perhaps we should make our arrangement a bit more respectable, hm?" he said in his normal, steady voice. Sophie gave a gasped laugh, incredulous. She found she could not bring herself to words until she processed what her love had said.

"What do you mean?" she asked lamely.

Howl chuckled in his practiced, patronizing manner. "I am surprised that a clever woman such as you would not recognize a marriage proposal when presented to her," he answered.

All traces of Sophie's former emotional confusion disappeared. "Don't toy with me," she warned using a tone that left no excuse for offense.

"Who's toying with whom?" Howl replied in mock indignation. "I believe it was you, dear Sophie, who first toyed with me."

When Sophie shot him a disbelieving look he continued. "Coming into my home, pretending to be a withered old maid? Tricking Calcifer into entering a deal with you and completely rearranging my hair dyes?" Howl shook his head, a smile playing on his face. "You have really turned this place upside down, haven't you?"

"No, you're the one who has done all the messing around in this household," Sophie countered, not quite ready to forgive and let the subject lay. "I thought you were content with the way things were, but then you attempted to evict me from the castle and lock Markl outside the door." "At night," she added as a second thought.

"Did you really expect me to open my home to that royal monstrosity?" Howl asked incredulously. "Sitting there like a warped watchdog waiting for you to come back? He shouldn't have left the palace."

Sophie sighed in exasperation. "You heard what he said: he wanted to _marry me_. You didn't do anything to make him think that his admiration was in vain." Howl looked pained for a moment as he looked into Sophie's face. It seemed as though he were searching for something, but as a result the close observation made Sophie uncomfortable.

"I had to let you make a choice. I didn't know why you stayed here," Howl started as if he were confessing a sin he had long kept inside his breast. "I had to know. I couldn't let you stay here, thinking that you were doing me a favor. We don't need you here-"

"What?" Sophie glared at the wizard in disgust. "You don't need me?" Howl opened his mouth to finish his sentence, but Sophie allowed him no time to speak. "You and Markl would be living under a pile of rotting garbage if it weren't for me! And Calcifer, poor Calcifer would be extinguished by now and you'd be dead along with him!"

Howl shook his head in alarm. "No, that's not what I meant. I meant that we could get along without you if you ever wanted to leave," he said quickly.

"Well, I won't be leaving, so you'll have to live with the disappointment," she answered, though she had to hide a quirk of amusement from overtaking her brow. She turned on her heel and walked back towards the stairs. She was halfway down flight of steps before Howl caught up to her. He lightly grabbed her upper arm and drew her close to his side.

"But I don't want you to go," he said quietly. "If you don't want to go," he added. Sophie shook the wizard off of her arm and continued down the stairs.

"I'm not going anywhere," she coolly called behind her.

"Then will you marry me?"

"Ask me in the morning," she replied firmly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I think there are a few people that need attending to."

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The bright sunlight filled the kitchen, outshining even the glow of the household fire demon. "Will you be done with the eggs soon?" Calcifer cried out in agony. "My head's beginning to hurt." 

Sophie lifted the pan from the fire and cautiously slid the eggs onto a nearby plate. "Sorry Calcifer, I wasn't paying attention," Sophie said as she laid the plate of eggs on the table.

The fire demon shook his blazing head at her. "Just because you have that ring on your finger does not make you head of this household! There was a time when no one but Howl was allowed to cook on me!"

"Speaking of Howl, why isn't he up yet? It's nearly noon," Sophie asked, ignoring Calcifer's half-hearted outrage. The sound of little feet descending the stair was soon audible, followed by the morning appearance of Markl.

"Eggs?" Markl observed. "Is there any cheese?"

"Yes, I bought some yesterday; it's in the cupboard," Sophie replied as she drew her gaze away from the stairs and employed herself with filling the seated Witch's plate. A sudden thud shook the rickety Porthaven door frame.

"Markl, I think that was the paper. Can you fetch it?" Sophie asked. The young boy hurried to place the block of cheese he had found on the table and ran to the door. As he cracked it open the sounds and smell of the sea greeted them, as well as the sight of the town's fishing boats making harbor.

Before Sophie could take the paper from Markl's hand, a familiar shadow moved past her and reached past her outstretched hand. "Good morning everyone," Howl called cordially, not taking his eyes off the newly acquired paper.

"Good morning Howl," Sophie replied, busying herself with preparing the bacon strips for cooking. As she passed by Howl's distracted figure now sitting at the table, she bumped against him gruffly, causing the paper to fall into his lap. "What's in the paper, dear?" she asked innocently with a sickly sweet voice she only used when she felt unjustly bothered.

"I'll have a look, love," he answered with mock agitation. He was silent for a few moments, a particularly interesting article apparently catching his eye. Around the time that the bacon had finished and Calcifer had retreated to a far corner of the hearth in indignant misery, Howl looked up from the paper with a pleased expression that Sophie remembered seeing only a few times before.

"Well?" she asked inquiringly as she seated herself next to him at the table. Howl smiled.

"It appears that we are to congratulate our Prince. It seems he's gone and gotten himself engaged," he reported with apparent satisfaction. Sophie looked up from supervising Markl's cheese intake in surprise.

"Really?" she asked interestedly. "To whom?"

"Do you remember fair cousin Jocelyn?" Howl asked. "It seems her beauty has captured more than the attention of the local bards." He held up the paper again. "It also seems that this arrangement has been in effect for a while."

Sophie snapped to attention. "He's been _engaged_? This entire time?"

"Apparently since birth," Howl replied gleefully.

"He's going to marry his cousin?" Markl gave a look of disgust. "People of royalty usually do," Sophie replied, more to herself than Markl.

"Are you upset?" Howl asked, putting his paper down.

Sophie scoffed. "Of course not. I should think that obvious by now," she said. She glanced at the simple silver ring that adorned her pale hand. Her other hand, resting in her lap, was soon intertwined with Howl's.

"I think a stroll in the meadow would be nice today," Howl said, though only Sophie could hear due to the noise of the plates and silverware as Markl hurried to clear the table.

"It's lucky it looks like rain in Porthaven. Otherwise I'd leave today and probably never come back," Calcifer grumbled from the fireplace. "Cooking eggs and bacon on me almost every morning now. What are they thinking treating me like a slave?"

"Oh, what a pretty fire," the Witch observed happily.

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A/N: Review, review, review please! Also, I didn't have much time to proofread this, so please forgive my lackluster grammar! Thanks for reading! 


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